3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug.

Lucky Us

By: Princess Kitty1

Chapter 3

Chat NoirRE: 20153 minutes ago

Good morning, My Lady!

Since you've made it clear that poetry is not your thing, I decided to try a different approach to being the first person to make you smile today. Attached is a picture of Plagg. I startled him mid-bath and his tongue got stuck outside his mouth. Isn't he adorable?

(For the record, I'm pretty adorable myself.)

Last night I dreamt I was having a terrible day at work when suddenly you arrived! Only you were an actual ladybug. A large, person-sized ladybug. It was a lot like The Metamorphosis, and just as terrifying.

x.x.x

Reality was, unfortunately, not too far off from the dream.

Plagg woke Adrien an hour before his alarm by sitting on his face and nearly suffocating him. After that, he couldn't go back to sleep no matter how hard he tried. Determined not to break routine, he emailed Ladybug at 6:45 on the dot, then managed to bump into his father—when was the last time that happened outside of work?—who graced him with a lecture about running away the day before.

"And don't think I haven't noticed the missing wine, Adrien. Control yourself. The last thing our image needs is for you to develop unsavory habits," Gabriel Agreste said in his calm, cool voice as he slipped out the door.

Chloe was waiting for Adrien when he emerged, tired and annoyed, from the mansion. Wednesday breakfast had been their routine for as long as Adrien could remember. He had mixed feelings about her company—they'd been friends for years and she understood him in a way many couldn't, but she was vain and selfish, something that age had never cured her of. She chattered all the way to the Dupain-Cheng bakery about how she'd snagged the latest smartphone before its release date, and insisted they take no less than twenty selfies together. Then, the moment they stepped into the bakery, her good humor vanished and she looked around like its existence personally offended her.

Here Adrien found an oasis in his less than stellar morning: Marinette Dupain-Cheng. He'd always been under the impression that she didn't like him, as she seemed determined not to spend more than a minute in the same room as him. But yesterday had changed his mind. The way she'd helped him hide without knowing why he was hiding, her modesty, and her generous offer to let him come back whenever he needed to, painted the picture of a kind, easily flustered girl. As if to verify his conclusion, when he approached the register she greeted him with a jerky smile and a noise that might have been 'hello' but could have easily been a whimper. Adrien returned her smile. He'd have to get to know her better.

And speaking of people he wanted to know better…

His thoughts turned to Ladybug on his way to the studio, how much and yet how little he knew about her. She was an early riser, but he wasn't sure when she woke up, so he sent his good morning messages fifteen minutes before a reasonable hour. She was close to him in age, and worked a job that she liked, but didn't seem passionate about. She'd tried online dating once and got set up with an artist who later hit the big time and left her. She lived in Paris—and the possibility that Adrien might have seen her, might have walked past her, might have been within twenty feet of her without knowing filled his stomach with butterflies.

Most importantly, Adrien knew that she lived for design. She'd sent him a concept sketch of an outfit once and he'd had to resist the urge to tell her who he was right then so he could get her a job with his father. More than not knowing her identity, it bothered him that he had the means to help her realize her dreams, but couldn't.

Or could he?

Adrien allowed his thoughts to roam. Sure, he wasn't all that close with his father, but he knew how to speak the man's language. And a proposal like that wouldn't be all that farfetched; his father was already toying with the idea of holding another design competition. Why couldn't Adrien give him a gentle push in that direction?

By the time he reached the studio, he had his plan. But to execute it he'd have to get back in his father's good graces, which meant no more drinking with Ladybug, unfortunately.

Ladybug. He sighed. Her messages were so cute when she was tipsy! It had taken every ounce of his self-control to keep from becoming an insufferable flirt last night. Ladybug trusted him, after all.

With the help of a croissant and the memory of Ladybug's emails, Adrien's mood lifted. But it appeared the universe had decided he shouldn't be happy that day. A combination of an irritable photographer and an equipment malfunction caused Adrien's shoot to extend for hours, and he almost wished for the distraction a human-sized insect would offer.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 20151 hour ago

It's the return of Plagg!

How is the old geezer doing?

I had a dream last night, too.

It was one of those awful reoccurring ones where you get to school and there's a test you haven't studied for.

Why do we have to have school dreams in adulthood?

Wasn't going to school punishment enough?

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 201535 minutes ago

Plagg is as lazy as ever, unless it's to follow me to the kitchen and beg for cheese. Can you believe him? Almost dies and he still wants to eat the stuff. Here's a transcript of our most recent conversation:

"No, Plagg, I'm not giving you any camembert." "Mow." "Remember when you got sick and we had to take you to the vet?" "Mow." "It's because you became lactose intolerant from eating too much cheese." "Moooow." (He gets up on his hind legs and paws at the refrigerator door.) "I said no, Plagg."

Then he wouldn't talk to me for the rest of the day. ):

As for school, I wouldn't know. I was homeschooled.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 20152 minutes ago

Give a poor old man his cheese!

Homeschooled, huh?

And to think I had you pegged as the class clown.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 201519 minutes ago

Wrong! Oh-so-very wrong. You see, the problem is you still believe that I'm Chat Noir in real life. But you must remember that the purpose of the secret identity is to hide.

There's so much that you don't know about me, My Lady. But I'd be willing to tell all if you asked. ;)

x.x.x

Horror flooded Adrien's body. Dear God, what had he just done? Message sent. It was too late to take it back. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

What now? The day, gone past in an irritating blur, had melted into a warm Parisian night. Stars strained to compete with the city of light as Adrien backed away from his desk, sat on his bed, got up, went to the sofa, picked up his phone and checked for a reply, found none, then repeated the process.

Best Case Scenario: She'd laugh it off and say good night.

Worst Case Scenario: She would actually ask.

Adrien didn't know which he dreaded more. On the one hand, he'd be hurt that she didn't care. On the other hand, he'd have to step out from behind the pseudonym and risk her rejecting Adrien Agreste instead of Chat Noir.

He refreshed his email app. Nothing. Maybe she'd gone to sleep. Maybe he'd scared her away for good.

His phone chimed.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 2015Just now

If you could do it all over again, would you choose to go to public school?

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 20151 minute ago

In a heartbeat.

x.x.x

Marinette had been staring at the clock on the wall for five minutes. Thursday was in a bad mood: sluggish and cloudy with occasional fits of rain. The benefit of that was it drew in new customers seeking shelter and a warm, cozy atmosphere, and being busy meant time went by faster.

Manon, working the closing shift, did not fail to notice Marinette's distraction. "You got somewhere important to be?" she asked.

"Huh? No!" Marinette let out a nervous giggle. "Why do you ask?"

Manon put the rag down and crossed her arms over her chest. "Number one, you're clearly anxious to get out of here, and I haven't seen you this excited to leave since Fantastic Fabrics had that huge seasonal clearance sale. Two, you went to freshen up ten minutes ago, which makes no sense considering you'll be stuck here cleaning up for at least an hour after closing. And don't even try to lie to me because I can smell the perfume."

Marinette narrowed her eyes. Damn, she knew she should have saved the perfume for after Manon left. "Maybe I just didn't feel like stinking anymore."

Manon's eyebrow arched. "Uh-huh," she deadpanned. "Want to hear my theory?"

"I'm going to hear it anyway, aren't I?"

"You have a date tonight."

Marinette laughed, hoping it sounded convincing to Manon because in her ears, it sounded desperate. "Yes, I totally have a date with the man I managed to seduce while working here six days a week." She shook her head. "You going to tell me how I met him?"

"Alya set you up," Manon tried. Marinette smirked at her. "A random walk-in customer?" She rolled her eyes. "You went against your better judgement and reopened your online dating profile?"

"Definitely not."

Manon looked disappointed. She draped herself over the cash register with a heavy sigh. "And here I was hoping Adrien had finally noticed how pretty you are and asked you out." She didn't catch the way Marinette's entire body tensed. "But anyway, if you're not busy, do you think you can come up with a fall outfit for Jacqueline? My doll photography blog has been getting a lot of traffic, and I want her looking her best when the season changes. I'll promote the hell out of you, of course." Marinette had gotten Manon into ball-jointed dolls when she was still a kid, and while Marinette was content with Tikki, Manon had gone full-blown collector, developing intricate stories for each doll.

"I'd be honored," Marinette said. "I love Jacqueline." Come to think of it, she hadn't made Tikki anything new in a few months. She could draw up some fall designs for both dolls later.

When six o'clock rolled around, Manon helped Marinette box up the leftover pastries, then clocked out for the day, leaving her alone with her sweating palms and anticipation.

Would Adrien show up?

There was no guarantee. All he'd said was that it was kind of her to offer. No promise to return, no hint that he'd be back—in fact, hadn't he said his sneaking out was supposed to be a onetime thing? Marinette groaned. She was an idiot. Of course he wasn't coming. He was a busy guy, a famous guy whose every move was under paparazzi scrutiny. If he started disappearing, it'd be far too conspicuous.

She pouted. In any case she'd saved him an eclair, so if he did decide to show up there'd be something to eat.

A horn honked outside and Marinette grabbed the box of leftovers, headed for the back door. To her surprise, the homeless shelter's volunteer was a familiar face. "Rose?"

The young blonde woman who stood in the doorway was a former classmate of Marinette's. Her enormous blue eyes grew even bigger at the sight of her. "Wow, Marinette! It's been too long," she cried, breaking into a sunny smile. "I can't believe it. I just got back into town a few days ago and figures it would rain the day I have to drive." She rolled her eyes as if she and Paris were in on some secret joke. "Gosh, it's so good to be home, though. I've been abroad since finishing my bachelor's degree—building houses in Haiti, helping the humanitarian effort in South American countries—I speak Spanish fluently now, isn't that something?—and here I am, volunteering at my favorite shelter again. And here you are, still at the bakery! Have you decided to take over for your parents after all?"

Marinette blinked, stupefied at the amount of information Rose had thrown at her. She really couldn't believe it either: her romantic, dreamy classmate, being a force for good in foreign countries. For the first time, she noticed that Rose was both tan and toned. "Wow. Rose, I… wow." Marinette grinned at her. "Yes, I'm still here," she added. "My parents had to go to China to take care of a relative. I'm running the bakery in their stead."

"Oh, okay. So you haven't given up on your design dreams yet? You were always so talented, Marinette. I bet you're even better now!" Rose took the box of pastries from her. "Whoops, but what am I doing? There's no time to chat. I'm running late! But I'll stop by the bakery next week and we can catch up then. What do you say?"

"It sounds…" Marinette caught movement out of the corner of her eye. A hooded figure at the mouth of the alley, frozen, staring at the vehicle between them. Adrien. "Fantastic!" Marinette shrieked. "I can't wait! And whatever you want to eat, it's on me, for old time's sake. But don't expect to get so lucky next time you come in!" she concluded with an unnatural laugh.

Rose, who had never been a suspicious person, didn't notice her agitation. "I'm looking forward to it," she said.

Marinette kept smiling as Rose turned back to the homeless shelter's vehicle and Adrien ducked behind a dumpster to avoid being seen. She waved at the car until it rounded the corner and merged with regular traffic, then dropped both her hand and her smile. That was close, she thought. Too close.

But here was Adrien now, walking up to her with his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, taking her up on her offer for sanctuary.

She really should have asked Chat Noir for advice. A confident guy like him was bound to be full of it: ice breakers for awkward situations, how to artfully leave someone alone without making it look like you were ignoring them. But no, rather than ask, she'd gotten half-drunk with him and stayed up laughing at his stupid jokes. Life choices: Marinette was good at them.

"That was close," Adrien said, echoing her earlier thoughts.

Marinette bit her bottom lip. "Maybe the alley wasn't such a good idea after all?"

To her infinite relief, he smiled, his green eyes glittering in contrast to the sullen evening. "Still easier than the front door."

She stood aside to let him in, shutting out the noise of the street. The bakery was quiet save for the hum of the freezers in the kitchen. Marinette, now magically short on things to say, wished she'd thought to turn the radio on at least. It sat on the small desk where she and her parents did all the paperwork, mocking her with its silence. "I wasn't sure if you were coming or not," she said.

Adrien lowered the hood of his jacket. He'd skipped the hat today, but his blonde hair still stood out at adorable angles, which helped accentuate his troubled frown. "Sorry. I wasn't very clear, was I?"

"It's no problem. I, uh, saved you a dessert just in case." Marinette led him through the kitchen and produced the eclair, ready on its ceramic plate. "I hope this is okay. You tend to pick something different every time you come in, so I wasn't sure if you had a preference."

Adrien took the plate from her. "You noticed that?"

I notice everything about you, Marinette thought, and her stomach fluttered. She tried to channel the spirit of the business owner, the one that made itself at home in her parents but tended to shy away from her when she needed it. "I wouldn't be good at my job if I didn't," she said. "Most regulars have a usual order, but you like to keep us on our toes." Yes, that was a nice, sane response.

Adrien looked embarrassed. "To be honest, everything is so good here, I kind of made it my mission to try it all at least once."

Marinette couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face, his words stirring up a lovely mixture of joy and pride. Her parents would be happy to hear that. They created the recipes; she was merely one of the few sets of hands that prepared them. Gaining a little bit of confidence, she opened her mouth to ask Adrien if he had any favorites when the unthinkable happened.

Her stomach growled.

It snarled.

And in the silence of the bakery it was one hundred percent audible.

Blood rushed up Marinette's neck, coloring her cheeks and ears. Why couldn't she have died on Monday when she prayed for a quick death? How many humiliations would she suffer before her heart gave out under the weight of her own awkwardness? Lightning. Earthquake. Meteor. A runaway vehicle smashing through the kitchen wall. She didn't care what it was as long as it happened now.

And then Adrien burst out laughing. It was the kind of unexpected, unrestrained, totally sincere laugh that dragged others along with it, and Marinette found herself giggling in spite of her crippling mortification. "Well," she said, "it's a good thing I saved one of those eclairs for me, too."

Adrien straightened and stifled the rest of his laugh with a cough. "Sorry, that was rude of me."

"No, it wasn't." It was a relief, really. If she ever failed to become Adrien's girlfriend, she could always apply for position of court jester at Castle Agreste.

"You should join me," he said.

Marinette stalled. "What?"

He pointed towards the storefront. "At the table?"

"Ah—oh—but what about your moment's peace? I wouldn't want to disturb you…"

"A moment's peace doesn't have to be spent in silence, you know."

She floundered. She quailed. She nodded her head.

Marinette was pretty sure this wasn't how seduction worked. From what she'd seen in movies and experienced in the past, seduction involved being clever and cute, not tongue-tied and embarrassing. Was she trying to seduce Adrien? No. Charm him? Was there a difference? Maybe he felt sorry for her. But even if his invitation was fueled by pity, she couldn't bring herself to revoke her acceptance of it by making up a feeble excuse and running for the hills.

She fetched the eclair she'd saved for herself—it had been mishandled at some point during the day and was squished on one side—and walked out of the kitchen.

Adrien sat at his usual table. A table for two. Had it not been such a gloomy evening, the storefront would have been awash with the pink hues of sunset. But the darkness had forced Marinette to turn on the overhead lights behind the counter, leaving the sitting area half in shadow.

She'd told Manon she wasn't going on a date that evening, so what the hell was this, then? Snack Time with Adrien Agreste, Featuring Intimate Lighting?

She slid into the seat across from him and thanked the same higher power that hadn't killed her yet that she didn't fall out of the chair. Adrien had his phone in hand. The glow of the screen illuminated his expression, and boy, what an expression it was: half-lidded eyes, relaxed brows, and an absent smile that made Marinette's heart skip a beat. He locked the screen and the glow went out, taking the expression with it. "Alright," he said as he pocketed his phone, "it's the moment of truth."

"Eh?" What moment of truth?

Adrien picked up the eclair. Oh, yeah, that. Marinette willed herself to stop freaking out and stay present. If ever there was an important time to appear sane in front of Adrien, this was it.

He took a healthy bite and chewed with a carefully arranged look of contemplation, as if he were a food critic searching for an excuse to shut the bakery down. Then he pointed the rest of the eclair at her. "When I gain thirty pounds from eating these, I'm blaming you."

"So our eclairs pass the taste test?"

"Absolutely not. Worst eclair I've ever had," he said, then winked at her before biting into it again.

Marinette, intending to break off a small, ladylike piece of her own eclair, tore the whole pastry in half. He winked at her. If that didn't end up her cause of death on the autopsy report, she'd have to tell someone to write it on her tombstone.

God, she needed to pull it together. What would Alya and Manon say if they saw her failing so spectacularly at making conversation? She mopped up the custard she'd spilled on her plate, making frantic grabs at her scrambled thoughts for something to say. "Did you get in trouble?" she asked. "For sneaking out, I mean." She could have kicked herself. Why would a grown man get in trouble for sneaking out of his house?

"I did, actually," he said, sounding downright happy about it. "My father's secretary talked my ear off for ten whole minutes. Brought back fond memories of my teenage years."

Marinette tried to fit that into Adrien Agreste's known personality traits. A rebellious teenager? With a face like his? She couldn't even envision him wearing a leather jacket.

"What about you, Marinette?"

Her mind went blank. "Huh?"

Adrien shrugged. "I've been coming here for a year and I don't know that much about you."

Marinette chewed a bite of her eclair to give herself time to think. What was there to know? Her name was Marinette. She worked at a bakery. When she wasn't working at the bakery, she was grocery shopping, doing the finances, and placing and receiving orders for the bakery. "What do you want to know?" she asked.

"Something surprising."

I have an enormous crush on you. "I'm a huge Jagged Stone fan."

Adrien's face lit up. "Really? That is surprising. You don't look like a head-banger."

"And you don't look like a rebellious kid," she shot back. Alya would have been proud of her for that one.

"I take it you don't believe this is Jagged's final farewell tour?" Adrien asked before popping the last of his eclair into his mouth.

Marinette snorted. "Please. Jagged Stone is way too vain to retire. I love the guy, but as soon as someone else comes on the scene and the magazines start hailing a new King of Rock, Jagged drops a fresh single, just to remind them they'll have to pry that title from his cold, dead hands." She rolled her eyes. "It'd be sad if he wasn't so good."

"Exactly. Chloe keeps trying to argue with me that Jagged Stone's a has-been, but who's listening to his music? Everyone."

"Everyone," Marinette agreed. "My friend Alya is trying to get an interview with him as we speak. She's an entertainment reporter."

Adrien leaned back in his chair. "There's another surprising fact about you. You're friends with a reporter."

It dawned on Marinette that she should have been nervous talking to him like this, but for the moment, she couldn't find it in herself to revert to shy. He'd gotten her started on Jagged Stone. There was no going back from Jagged Stone. "Hey, I've given you two surprising facts and you've only given me one."

"You're absolutely right," Adrien said. He pretended to think about it. "I'm a cat person." He gestured for her to contribute the next fact.

"I'm not a cat person."

"Dog person?"

"Hamster person."

Adrien laughed out loud. Marinette laughed, too. "I can't imagine you're allowed to keep rodents above a bakery, though."

"Sadly, no." She mopped up more of the eclair's filling with what was left of the pastry. "Dad and I did entertain the notion of getting a rat and naming him Remy, but Mom put a stop to that very fast. She doesn't quite share our enthusiasm." Marinette chewed on her eclair, wondering how her parents would react to Adrien's after hour visits. Knowing them, they'd invite him into the house, feed him dinner, and insist upon his marrying their cute and available daughter. No, she'd better not tell them.

"It sounds like fun," Adrien said.

"Hmm?"

He shook his head and turned his attention to the door, but Marinette caught the tinge of sadness in his smile. "It's pouring out there."

"Do you need to head back?"

"Probably." He reached for his wallet again. "Are you sure I don't have to pay for the eclair?"

Marinette flapped her hand at him. "It was destined for someone, and anyway, I can't sell you an eclair that's been sitting out since this morning."

Adrien feigned offense. "You're feeding me scraps."

"Well, if you keep turning up at my door like a stray…" She grinned. Adrien's expression brightened. The rain splattered on the glass in a sudden gust of wind, causing them both to turn their heads. Marinette stood up and collected their plates. "Hold on a second."

She left the plates in the kitchen sink and ran up the stairs to her front door. Just inside the apartment was an umbrella stand, from which she grabbed her father's black umbrella—because her polka-dotted pink one would not do—before heading back downstairs. She presented it to Adrien. "I know your jacket has a hood, but in this weather I don't think it'll take much before it's soaked through."

Adrien took the umbrella uncertainly, but he gave Marinette a grateful smile. "I'll bring it back on Tuesday, I promise."

He's coming back, Marinette thought. Oh my God, he's coming back. She walked him to the alley door, watching him as he stepped into the storm, shielded by the umbrella. Before he ducked out of sight, he turned and lifted his hand in a wave, then disappeared around the corner.

Marinette sagged against the door frame, legs shaking, heart pounding out a thousand beats per second. "What the hell was that?" she murmured, running her trembling hand through her hair. Had she just been having casual conversation with Adrien Agreste? Was that her, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, making jokes, telling him things, being flirty? And if it wasn't her doing those things, was whatever had possessed her to do them willing to hang out on Tuesday?

He's coming back, she thought again, and her stomach twisted in the most pleasant of ways.

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 20151 hour ago

I used to be a yo-yo champion.

My parents bought me one when I was a kid and I became obsessed. I learned every trick in the book. I even invented a few myself.

In my third year of middle school, I was invited to the European Yo-Yo Championship in Poland.

As my terrible luck would have it, I sprained my wrist two days before the competition.

It was the second greatest disappointment of my life.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 201534 minutes ago

That's awful, buginette. It is also the cutest thing I've ever heard, and I am blessed that you have opened up about your life to me. So please don't take offense when I ask you this:

Are you sick? Dying, even?

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 201517 minutes ago

No.

It just didn't seem fair that you told me something personal, so I evened the score.

But let's not make a habit of it.

x.x.x

Chat NoirRE: 20156 minutes ago

Why not?

x.x.x

LadybugRE: 20152 minutes ago

Good night, chaton.

To Be Continued

A/N: This chapter took me three weeks to write. I am so mad.